


golden skin and dust against the wind

by groundkei



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boyfriends, Cute, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post Time Skip, contains suggestive themes, no smut tho, proposal, soft, tsukishima loves yamaguchi very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundkei/pseuds/groundkei
Summary: This, Tsukishima thinks, is what he prays for during the times when he is most desperate. Yamaguchi’s shoulders and the freckles sprinkled onto his skin, a plethora of stars only he can see. They are dust against the wind, dust against the golden light peeking in rectangles through their sheer curtains. They swim against the air in quiet and settles where they should. Atop the forest, and over the rich soil and healthy greens. They fill the land with their presence. Tsukishima wants to reap them and make them his—with dust clinging onto the lines running along his palms, making them their home. He wants Yamaguchi on his skin.(or, the three times tsukishima thinks of proposing to yamaguchi, and the one time they finally do.)
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 174





	golden skin and dust against the wind

**Author's Note:**

> just a little something for TsukkiYama Day!! Happy 11/12! <3
> 
> comments are very much appreciated! 😁

Tsukishima dreams of Yamaguchi’s shoulders and the way freckles dust over his golden skin like stars in the night sky, a plethora of wishes he yearns for with his fingertips, stretched in front of him like the endless ocean over the horizon. He dreams of Yamaguchi’s freckles and his own lips hovering over them, kissing them softly one by one. His lips are rough against Yamaguchi’s soft skin, glowing under the dark that drapes over them like silk, but they are still gentle once they hit the corners painted in gold.

“Morning, Tsukki…”

Yamaguchi’s voice is rough during the early hours, and Tsukishima has grown to love the way every syllable rolled off of his boyfriend’s tongue as he tries to shake away the sleep still seeping into his bone. Mornings with him, with their limbs entangled under the white sheets and hues of the morning sky spilling in stripes against the floor of their bedroom, is simply the epitome of appeasement. Sighing, Tsukishima lets his eyelids flutter close, his arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s bare waist tightening as he pulls him closer to his chest. He sighs again—quiet and soft. His breathing is warm against Yamaguchi’s shoulder.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi calls again, his voice a soft whisper against the quiet. “We still have work.”

Tsukishima hums, his lips still pressed against his boyfriend’s shoulder. His eyes remain closed, still dreaming of the freckles scattered along golden skin.

“Five more minutes.”

“We don’t have five more minutes.” Yamaguchi whines, trying to wiggle his way out of his boyfriend’s embrace.

Slowly, Tsukishima opens his eyes, gold against their white sheets and bright under the peeking sunlight past their sheer curtains. He lowers his gaze onto Yamaguchi’s bare shoulders, tracing every little thing there is to see as he takes in the freckles dusting his boyfriend’s skin. He remembers his dream—vivid in front of his eyes, clear as the waters. He presses his lips against his boyfriend’s shoulder blade. Once, twice. As many times as he could until he feels Yamaguchi slowly melting against his arm. He wants to kiss all of his freckles.

Yamaguchi turns back to him, his skin now feverish under Tsukishima’s hold. He meets his boyfriend’s gaze, golden and warm. The forest meeting the first lick of sunlight. “Hey…” he calls out again softly. “We need to get up.”

“Mhm,” Tsukishima leans down and presses another kiss on Yamaguchi’s cheek. Then, on the other, tracing every freckle he could find.

Yamaguchi is the first one to leave their bed, his bare skin marked with soft bruises that glint in purple and red. His muscles are aching when he stands, legs trembling from underneath him for a moment as he reaches down to pick up the t-shirt lying on the cold floor. Tsukishima continues to watch him as he dresses himself in nothing but the thin material, watching as his golden skin marked with their lovemaking is carefully covered with his clothes. The t-shirt hung loose against Yamaguchi’s frame, his shoulder exposed. Tsukishima keeps his eyes trained on it.

He finds that he wants to kiss his shoulders again.

Yamaguchi turns back to look at him. “Breakfast?”

“I’ll be with you in a few.”

Tsukishima takes his time dressing himself. When he comes padding down into their kitchen, he finds Yamaguchi quietly humming a tune all to himself as he waits for the eggs to cook. He stops by the doorway, hunching down just enough as to not hit his head against it. He lets a smile grace his lips, albeit small, it was still there.

“You’re in a good mood,” Tsukishima states as he approaches his boyfriend from the back, snaking his arms around his waist. Yamaguchi cranes his head to look at him, pecking his lips once with a smile.

“I am,” Yamaguchi chuckles before turning back to the food he’s cooking. Tsukishima releases him from his hold, letting his hands linger against his waist for a few more seconds before approaching their dining table.

The strong aroma of coffee is the first thing he notices upon sitting down. Freshly brewed, he tells himself. Yamaguchi’s coffee is still one of his favorites during the early mornings, next to waking up beside him and having to kiss his freckled shoulder in quiet sighs. Quietly, he pours himself a cup and takes a few sip, letting its warmth run down his throat and comfort him from the chilly morning.

He turns to take another look at his boyfriend, admiring the way his t-shirt hung against his frame in such frailty it looks as though the fabric would rip in one pull. It might, he thinks. His hands are strong enough to rip the fabric away from his boyfriend’s skin, enough to reveal the delicate skin underneath he has always grown to love and adore—rough hands against a soft torso. So strong yet still frail at the sides. The thought alone ignites a fire in him.

They shower and dress after they eat, just as they always do every morning. The routine has been with them for years now, yet they still do not seem to mind the minutes of silence passing by in between. Over the years, they have come to appreciate the littlest of things from within their home. Tsukishima particularly likes the way Yamaguchi’s footsteps would sound like inside their bed room as he takes a shower from the bathroom. It sounds as though he is dancing lightly against the floor, his toes barely touching the ground from how gentle the steps sound. They are comforting, eerily so that it frightens him to not be able to hear that one morning.

“You’ll be home for dinner tonight?” Yamaguchi asks him as he helps with tying his tie. An easy Windsnor knot. “I’m cooking your favorite.”

Tsukishima hums, smiling. He pushes his eyeglasses onto his face and says, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Yamaguchi grins, wide and bright with his freckled cheeks flushed, hues of pink dusting over his skin in light taps. Tsukishima runs a finger against it, gentle with the way he lets the roughness of his skin glide gently across the apple of Yamaguchi’s cheek. His skin is warm underneath his.

Yamaguchi grabs his hand resting atop of his cheek and presses a soft kiss on the inside of his palm. Tsukishima’s golden eyes flicker onto his boyfriend’s slender fingers, admiring the way they look against his. Long and frail, a bit rough at the edges, but still gentle all the same. His mind wanders back onto the ring stashed inside one of his drawers; carefully hidden away inside a blue velvet box underneath his pile of belongings. Would it fit Yamaguchi’s finger the way he would like it to? Would the ring fit at all?

He wonders.

Smiling, Yamaguchi goes on his toes and presses a quick kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Tsukishima continues to caress Yamaguchi’s fingers, thinking of one thing that has been bugging him for the last few months.

Perhaps, he will finally pop the question next time. For now, they have to go to work.

* * *

“C’mon, Tsukishima! Even Yachi-san is drinking!”

Tsukishima casts a glare over Hinata, thin lips curled in a scowl. The red head only grins at him, snickering beside Kageyama who looks like he could care less. The place is too bright for his liking. The smell of alcohol and cooked meat lingers under his nose and sticks onto his clothes.

“No,” he says, shaking his head with finality. He ignores the glass of beer being pushed towards him and says, “I’m not planning on getting drunk tonight. I have plans.”

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “What plans?” he asks while Yachi only continues to sip quietly on her drink.

Tsukishima shrugs, nonchalant. He is _definitely_ not about to answer that.

“Just one drink!” Hinata presses, pushing the beer closer towards Tsukishima and still grinning from ear to ear. Kageyama meets the blond’s glare and raises an eyebrow at him, his cheeks tainted with red from a few glasses of beer. Tsukishima grimaced, shaking his head.

“I don’t like alcohol.”

Yamaguchi lets out a chuckle beside his boyfriend and places a gentle hand on his arm. Tsukishima spares a glance at the sudden warmth seeping through the fabric of his coat. “Just one glass, Tsukki.”

“Not you, too,” Tsukishima groans, pushing his eyeglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “I have work tomorrow, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi lets out a chuckle. “You’re not going to get drunk! It’s just a glass.”

_Wrong._

Tsukishima does not exactly remember how a glass turned into a few more after that. He has plans, he tells himself, as he stares at Hinata’s red cheeks and listens to Kageyama’s nonsense blabbering while he continues to chug down the alcohol being pushed towards him. The place is too bright for his liking—white lights dancing in front of his eyes like a bunch of stolen stars. His head hurt, a dull throb reverberating at the back of his head and down his neck.

“I win!” Hinata slurs, cackling when Kageyama almost chokes on the meat stacked on his plate.

Tsukishima continues to watch them, grimacing. His eyelids are now slowly fluttering shut behind his eyeglasses, his cheeks profusely burning with red. His body feels heavy. Is he drunk? Probably.

“Dumb…” he slurs, snorting. “Dumbass…”

Kageyama leans against the table, sneering. A few strands of his hair fell right above his eyes. “Fuck you.”

Tsukishima ignores him and grabs another glass of beer. “Whatever, king.” He mumbles, tripping on his own tongue like a goddamned maniac.

Yamaguchi leans towards him, his minty scent mingling with the heavy smell of alcohol and barbecue smoke. Tsukishima wrinkles his nose, growing irritated by the fact that his botfriend’s scent is now masked by something else. “Tsukki,” he hears him call for him. Yamaguchi gently takes away the glass in his hands. “That’s enough. You’re drunk,” he chuckles.

Tsukishima turns to him and stares through his eyelashes. Kageyama and Hinata continues to bicker from the other side of the table while Yachi tries to stop them, her gentle voice fleeting over the noise.

“‘M not drunk,” says Tsukishima, lifting one hand to trace the redness across Yamaguchi’s cheeks, his freckles burning along the pad of his finger. “Pretty…” he mumbles.

Yanaguchi smiles, taking his boyfriend’s hand in his. Tsukishima continues to stare at him, eyelids heavy. Beautiful, he thinks. He wants to trace Yamaguchi’s freckles one by one. He wants to name all of them and keep them safe inside his heart where his love resides. He wants to paint them with gold and spill silver down the cracks—glimmering underneath his palms. Indeed, he is beautiful.

Tsukishima lowers his gaze onto his lap and stares at Yamaguchi’s other hand resting untouched. Light spills against the table, bouncing off of the half full glasses and painting Yamaguchi’s knuckles bright. Tsukishima continues to stare, admiring the bumps along the thin skin, the veins that glow blue and purple underneath. He wants to hold them and make them his if he were allowed.

“Do you want to go home now?” Yamaguchi’s voice is gentle against his ears. He finds that he wants to listen to it for as long as he lives.

Tsukishima clumsily takes Yamaguchi’s hand, fitting it gently inbetween his fingers. A question hangs at the tip of his tongue.

“Tsukki?”

_I want to marry you,_ he thinks. The velvet box sitting inside of his coat’s pocket grows warmer, heavier by the seconds.

“Marry…” he mumbles. Yamaguchi tilts his head to the side.

“What?” he asks, leaning closer to him. “What did you say?”

Tsukishima lets out a sigh. The place is too bright for his liking. He rest his head against the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, far too intoxicated to even think straight anymore. When they arrive home later that night, he thinks about the ring again.

He had plans for tonight.

“Goodnight, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whispers, his voice lulling him into oblivion.

He falls asleep to Yamaguchi’s lips pressed against his forehead.

* * *

Tsukishima has never been the religious type, but he’s prayed for Yamaguchi many times than he would like to admit.

“What about a dog?”

Tsukishima grimaced, eyes glued onto their ceiling. “I’m more of a cat person.”

Yamaguchi lifts himself up from the bed to take a look at his boyfriend, his elbows propped against the soft foam to supporting his weight. “What?” he asks, incredulous. “Tsukki, you like dogs!”

Tsukishima wraps an arm around his waist, his hand traveling underneath his shirt to trace circles at the small of his back. He smiles at Yamaguchi, melting against his pillow as he peeks at his boyfriend from the strands of hair tickling his eyelashes. Even without his eyeglasses, he can make out the faint traces of freckles dusting over Yamaguchi’s cheeks. “Not as much as I like cats, though.”

Yamaguchi pouts at him, his lower lip protruding. “That’s not fair.”

“How?”

“You like dogs, too!”

“Well, that depends. What breed are we talking about here?”

“A golden retriever?” Yamaguchi beams.

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at him, fingers still running along the curve of Yamaguchi’s back. There are freckles there, too. He knows. “Why? It’s a big dog.”

“Because,” Yamaguchi grins and leans forward, the tips of his hair tickling Tsukishima’s cheek, “they remind me of you.”

“It’s my hair, isn’t it?”

Yamaguchi giggles and presses a kiss at the tip of Tsukishima’s nose—gentle and fleeting. Brown light spills from their night lamp and onto their sheets, staining the sides of their legs with warmth. Gently, Tsukishima pulls Yamaguchi closer to him, his arm feverish against his boyfriend’s golden skin, tracing over the parts where he knows marks reside. Their bodies press together ever so lightly, and Tsukishima lets a smile grace his face as he allows himself to trail his lips down Yamaguchi’s jaw, blowing soft air onto the skin he meets along the way. Yamaguchi shudders under his touch, eyelids fluttering close.

This is what he prays for during the nights when he feels the most helpless. Yamaguchi against his skin, feverish like melted iron—marking his skin with kisses so hot it melts against the core of the Earth. And Tsukishima melts with them. His fingers melt amongst Yamaguchi’s fluttering kisses, his chest turning into liquid and drip, drip, dripping down the corners of the Earth. He prays for him and his love to remain, even when he’s not feeling hopeless. He prays for him and him only.

Tsukishima lips stay glued onto the skin below Yamaguchi’s neck when he starts to tug at the hem of his boyfriend’s t-shirt. He removes the clothing swiftly, and Yamaguchi sighs when cool air comes in contact with his skin—golden under the dim light surrounding them. He wraps both arms around Tsukishima’s neck and gently starts to caress his nape, fingers running through the soft, blond hair at the edges.

“Tsukki…” he calls.

Tsukishima hums, still continuing to mark Yamaguchi’s skin red.

“Is that a yes?”

Tsukishima pulls away and gazes at him. “For what?”

Yamaguchi grins. “The dog.”

“It depends.”

“Depends how?”

Tsukishima leans in again and starts to press softer kisses onto Yamaguchi’s face, counting every freckle in his mind and making sure none is left out. He lifts him up by his waist and sets him in between his thighs, straddling him. Yamaguchi chuckles, and Tsukishima swears right then and there he could hear the gates of heavens opening for him. During his quietest times, this is what he prays for.

Yamaguchi tugs at the hem of his boyfriend’s t-shirt. “Off,” he mutters, lips swollen and red. Tsukishima complies and throws the thin fabric over his head.

For a while, the two of them stare at each other amongst the bareness of their skin. Tsukishima is even paler under the dim lights, his golden eyes glinting under the dark. Yamaguchi lets his hands trail down his biceps, squeezing gently at the muscles with a sigh escaping his parted lips.

This, Tsukishima thinks, is what he prays for during the times when he is most desperate. Yamaguchi’s shoulders and the freckles sprinkled onto his skin, a plethora of stars only he can see. They are dust against the wind, dust against the golden light peeking in rectangles through their sheer curtains. They swim against the air in quiet and settles where they should. Atop the forest, and over the rich soil and healthy greens. They fill the land with their presence. Tsukishima wants to reap them and make them his—with dust clinging onto the lines running along his palms, making them their home. He wants Yamaguchi on his skin.

Tsukishima is gentle that night. He swallows every moan and gathers every cry resounding through their room. He knows Yamaguchi’s body more than his—knows what can make him come undone under just his fleeting gazes. Sweat glistens on Yamaguchi’s chest when they connect, beads of golden liquid glimmering in the dark and staining their skin with nothing but hues of sunrise.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi gasps, clawing at his back and marking them red. “ _Oh— please, please. Tsukki–“_

Tsukishima grunts, hot and heavy. He meets Yamaguchi’s gaze from underneath and gently wipes the droplets of tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I love you,” he whispers. Slowly, as though the words are foreign to his unsure tongue. “I love you,” he repeats. “I love you.”

_I love you,_ over and over again like a mantra inside his head. Every word, every syllable—they roll off his tongue and drip down onto his palm in nothing but gold. This is what he prays for during his most serene state. Yamaguchi underneath him, their bodies pressed as one. If he were to believe in something right there and then, he would wholeheartedly open his heart.

They finish when pools of silver spill all over their feet, the moon waving from above. Yamaguchi is fast asleep against his chest, breathing calm and even. Tsukishima sighs and presses his lips at the crown of his boyfriend’s head. His gaze flicker momentarily onto their nightstand’s drawer, remembering the velvet box neatly stashed somewhere in the dark, waiting for the right time.

Soon, he thinks.

* * *

_Victory looks good on Tsukishima_ , Yamaguchi muses.

He stands by the audience, holding a green banner with his boyfriend’s name on it, his left cheek painted with the number 17 in white. Yachi stands beside him, cheering noisily for Sendai Frogs with her green and yellow balloons. The whole stadium is going wild with screams erupting from either side of the venue. The whole place is anything but serene.

“Nice kill, Tsukishima-kun!”

Yamaguchi lowers his banner and waves a hand above his head, a wide grin plastered across his face. From down below where the court is, Tsukishima continues to pant from exhaustion. His eyes are searching everywhere, trying to look for the familiar pair of green eyes and freckled cheeks. He adjusts the band wrapped around the sides of his head just as he finally spots where Yamaguchi currently is.

“Tsukki!”

Tsukishima allows himself to smile, soft and fleeting against the uproar of his teammates. He hears Kyoutani calling for his name to gather around after their win, but instead, he chooses to stare just a bit longer at where his boyfriend is. He lifts a careful hand, taped fingers flincing ever so lightly as he finally acknowledges Yamaguchi’s presence by the audience. Yamaguchi calls out for him again, his voice booming amongst the shoutings. Tsukishima smiles.

“Tsukishima!” Koganegawa grabs his arm and pulls him quickly into their circle. Everyone is sweaty and panting and too busy rejoicing for their victory. “We won!”

“I know,” he replies. He turns back too look at where Yamaguchi is and sees him gathering his belongings with Yachi from the stand. 

“We’re having an after party with the other team. You coming?”

Tsukishima shrugs, eyes still following his boyfriend’s figure. Yamaguchi takes the stairs near the right ing of the stands, and he along with Yachi leave the buzzing crowd with smiles on their faces. Tsukishima detaches himself from his team, damp sweat still clinging onto his skin and clothes and making him feel all sticky and irritated. He cannot wait to go home and shower.

“Congratulations!” Yamaguchi throws his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, planting a kiss on top of his parted lips with a smile. Tsukishima quietly thanks him, his muscles relaxing at the familiar scent of mint and strawberry on Yamaguchi. It smells like home.

“Congratulations, Tsukishima-kun,” Yachi states.

“Thank you, Yachi-san,” he says. “It’s been a while since we’ve last seen you.”

Yachi lets ut a laugh, bright and cheery. “Tokyo is quite busy these days. It’s hard to find any freetime especially with my workload.”

“I told her to take a short leave,” Yamaguchi muses. “But it seems like she has plenty of excuses not to.”

“I’m a busy woman, Yamaguchi-kun!”

Tsukishima breaks into a smile. “Don’t overwork yourself too much, Yachi-san.”

Yachi pouts at the couple, but still nods nonetheless. When the three of them finally leave the venue, Tsukishima is already more than ready to go back home and rest. He lets Yamaguchi drive their car while Yachi bids farewell earlier than expected, saying she still has extra work to do. Halfway through their car ride, Tsukishima falls asleep in the passenger’s seat.

Yamaguchi spares him a glance at a stop light and takes the moment to just stare at him in silence. Tsukishima’s golden hair now falls a little bit over his eyes, he notices. Perhaps, he should get a haircut soon? When they are both free, he’ll probably try and book an appointment for the two of them.

Tsukishima starts to stir in his seat, mumbling incoherently, his forehead creasing as he leans his head against his side. Yamaguchi reaches out to adjust his seatbelt. “What is it?” he mutters when Tsukishima continues to mumble.

“Tadashi...”

Yamaguchi perks up. “Yeah?” he asks, chuckling all to himself. The light turns yellow.

“Marry...” Tsukishima mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “Wanna marry...”

Green. Yamaguchi pulls away and steps on the gas.

When he wakes, there are two things Tsukishima noticed upon arriving at their front door: first, is that he badly needs to take a shower, and second, Yamaguchi seems... _weird._

The silence heavily hanging over them like a cloak seems too misplaced from within their own home, but Tsukishima has taken the liberty of running himself a hot shower first before he checks up on his boyfriend. He didn’t do anything as far as he can remember, so it must be fine. When he emerges from the bathroom, a thick cloth of towel hanging limply around his waist while droplets of glistening water still cascade down his torso, he sees his boyfriend sitting at the edge of their bed.

“Hey,” he says, approaching him with quiet foot steps. “What’s wrong?”

Yamaguchi lifts his head to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get married?”

Tsukishima freezes in his tracks, like a deer caught in the headlights. He stares at his boyfriend, admiring the subtle hint of rosiness playing across his freckled cheeks, hues of gold and red mixing all together in a pool of warmth. Yamaguchi peers at him through his eyelashes, the thin strands long enough to touch the base of his skin and tickle them with feathery touches.

“Come again?” Tsukishima breathes out. The air is cold against his pale skin.

“Marriage,” Yamaguchi utters, louder this time. “What do you think about getting married, Tsukki?”

A beat of silence passes by. Tsukishima spares a glance at their nightstand, mind wandering back to the blue velvet box neatly stashed somewhere where light cannot penetrate. It sits there, cold and waiting. Tsukishima grows warm just thinking about it.

“Okay...”

“Okay?” Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow.

Tsukishima shifts on his feet. “I’ve actually been thinking about it for quite some time now.”

“And?”

Tsukishima spares another glance at their nightstand. He pads over to it quietly, his footsteps light thuds against the corners of their shared bedroom. Their breathings are quick amongst the quiet, their hearts raging from withing their chest. Carefully, Tsukishima pulls open the drawer, his slender fingers wrapping around the bronze knob that glimmered against the light. He peels off his unused notebooks, careful and steady with the pages stained with yellow and time, and reaches out for the box at the far end corner. He stares at the velvet marterial coating it from every corner and bites his lower lip.

Yamaguchi gasps from behind him, silently approaching. “You bought a ring already?” he asks, disbelief in his voice.

Tsukishima nods at him. “I’ve had it with me for a few months now.”

“How much was it?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

Yamaguchi chuckles, airy and soft. Tsukishima’s face splits into a small smile. “I can’t believe you just ruined my plans,” he says. “I was supposed to ask you first.”

Yamaguchi leans towards him, wrapping his arms around his bare waist. “Why? Would you prefer a grand proposal instead?”

Tsukishima shakes his head. “No,” he tells him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, as surprising as it sounds.”

“Mhm,” Yamaguchi plants a small kiss on his boyfriend’s – or should he say fiance’s? – lips. “Me too.”

Tsukishima smiles and rests his chin on top of Yamaguchi’s shoulder. He still has a lifetime to count every mark on Yamaguchi’s body and call them his.

**Author's Note:**

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